


falling in love in a cold climate

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Future Fic, Laundry, On the Run, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8773990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: They run away - with an emergency stop to wash their clothes.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).



The muzak is playing Bob Dylan very low. The whole world seems to be playing Bob Dylan these days. They’re in Oregon (not the hipster Oregon, not the Oregon he knows, the way-up-north Oregon, the poor people’s Oregon) and in an unknown ordinary small town and in a laundromat, washing their stuff in a rush.

“I don’t think I’ve been in one of these since our washing machine break down one Christmas when I was in high school,” he says.

Daisy smiles, putting the clothes in one of the machines. She likes hearing about that stuff and Coulson, when he’s scared, becomes talkative. He’s scared now, jumping every time some random person opens the door. He still has this expression of shock on his face. Kicked out of SHIELD for not following orders, Daisy can imagine how big that is for him. But when the orders were rounding up and locking up people like her (precautionary measure her ass) it was obvious he only had one choice. And she was his only hope of an extraction team. And now they’re in Oregon, the word “terrorist” written over both their files.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to pick up any clothes,” he says. They had to buy some on the way. Vaguely ridiculous stuff, cheap stuff, just to be able to get under the radar.

“It’s fine, I needed to wash mine too,” Daisy says.

They have been driving non-stop, sleeping in turns on the car. Yes, the car is stolen. Kind of. Daisy stole it in a way no one is going to miss it for a while, and then they changed a couple of times. Security systems are very hard to crack these days but she could easily make a living out of this. Except well, she’s not a criminal. Apart from literally.

He watches her go through the process like she does this kind of thing every day, almost not bothering to look at the instructions. He realized he has had a very sheltered life in SHIELD that he should be admiring Daisy’s washing machine skills.

“You’re good at this.”

“A laundromat is a young girl’s best friend,” Daisy says.

“Really?”

“If the girl is homeless, yeah, it is,” she shrugs.

“You have to teach me some of your tricks then,” he says. He sounds resigned to a life on the run, for now.

He’s never been without a safety net, before. Not even when SHIELD went under. Daisy wants to be that safety net, but she knows it’s not enough. Especially because her face is even more infamous than his right now.

“You look cold,” she says.

“Well, yes.”

It’s a cold place.

He looks unrecognizable - which was the plan and Daisy congratulates herself on her choice of disguise for him. He has a stubble and he is wearing thick lumberjack clothes. He looks like a farmer or one of those artists who make sculptures in the middle of the woods where no one can find them. With the stubble it’s unlikely anyone is going to recognize him as Phil Coulson, public enemy number two. Public enemy number one looks just as unrecognizable and Daisy keeps running her palm against the back of her head, feeling the crisp short hair.

“I’ll get us some coffee,” she says, going to one of the machines on the opposite wall. These places normally had everything one could want for. Tasty snacks. Coffee. Wifi. Weirdoes who normally make interesting company.

Coulson looks at the clothes turning and turning. He has no idea what he’s going to do. But having Daisy constantly by his side, these past few days as they crossed the country… well, that part wasn’t bad. He has to admit at least that.

“This is pretty empty,” he says, noticing they are the only two people left in the shop.

“It’s nice,” she says. “I like it here.”

They finish their coffee pretty quickly, it’s so cold outside.

“You look in your element.”

“Hey, we even have music.”

They are not playing Bob Dylan anymore, they are playing Joni Mitchell. That’s better.

Coulson puts his hand on Daisy’s hip.

“Thank you,” he says.

“What for?”

“For getting me safe out of DC, for looking out for me,” he tells her. “For this past week.”

“You’re welcome. I mean, no need to thank me.”

She hopes he knows he doesn’t have to thank her. She is the one who got him in this mess in the first place - he knows he would have always made that call, stand besides the Inhumans. But if she hadn’t thrown those crystals in the ocean he wouldn’t have had to face that choice.

He wishes he had done that more often, when life was quieter and easier and they both had a team and a place, he wishes he had thanked Daisy more often, for the things she’s done for him, and everybody.

Daisy feels his hand tighten around her hipbone as he pulls her closer to him, his body swaying a bit, like he’s secretly dancing to the music or something. He brushes his lips softly against hers. She freezes, and she she notices Coulson has closed his eyes as he kisses her. Does he always close his eyes when he kisses or it’s just…? You know what, Daisy doesn’t want to know.

She pulls away, gently pushing him off her with a hand on his chest. She goes to one of the plastic chairs lined up against the window and drops her head a bit. She suddenly feels the exhaustion and fear of the whole week catching up with her. Coulson goes after her, of course, wanting to apologize. 

“I’m sorry, we’ve been on the road together for a week, I guess I misread the situation,” he says.

Daisy sighs. “No, you didn’t.”

Of course he didn’t misread it. She was there. During the endless driving and the mocking crappy classic rock radio stations and the one time they shared a motel room and buying clothes together and now washing them together and the guilty pang of happiness running through her body during the whole time. He couldn’t have read it better, actually.. 

She sounds a bit heavy about it, which bothers Coulson, but he’s also glad to hear this.

This is a problem, she thinks. Every time she thinks she has figured out a way to keep her life under control Coulson somehow manages to mess it up - not on purpose of course, and not in a bad way. But. It’s a problem.

“Coulson, we’re being hunted by the army.”

“I’m very aware of that,” he says.

“At least three different organizations want to lock me up or kill me or both, and they’ll do the same to you, just for being near me.”

“We’ve talked about this,” he argues. “You are not responsible for my acts.”

“No but…” she gestures hopelessly. she touches her fingertips to the line of her mouth. “That you just did? That’s the nicest thing that’s happened to me this whole year. And I want more but…”

“But…?”

“Do we really have room for it? With how our lives are, right now?”

She makes a good point. The last thing he wants is to get in the way. He hopes she knows that. He knows she knows that. There’s so much already in their plate. He doesn’t want to be another thing stressing her.

“Maybe not,” he agrees. “But what’s the point of being hunted by governmental agencies and crazies with guns if you’re not going getting kissed in the middle of Nowhere, Oregon, inside a laundromat?”

That makes her smile. He has a point. He’s much more romantic than she is.

She reaches out her hand. Coulson hesitates, not sure what she wants him to do. He finally takes it in his hand (her fingers are cold) and Daisy uses him to balance herself as she stands up.

She’s very close, all in his space. He guesses, like when he suddenly touched her hip.

She doesn't put up much resistance to the idea. She knew she wouldn't. She doesn't want to.

“Okay, but don’t distract me too much, Agent Coulson.”

He shakes his head. “Not _agent_ , just a public menace, like you.”

She’s very close, until the tip of her nose touches his.

They move their bodies together, like dancing to the music they can barely hear.


End file.
